


Behind Closed Doors

by Ellxhii



Category: Final Fantasy VII (Video Game 1997), Final Fantasy VII Remake (Video Game 2020)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Drabble, Fluff, I DONT MAKE THE RULES, M/M, Maybe - Freeform, Non-Graphic Smut, Reno (Compilation of FFVII)-centric, Rude (Compilation of FFVII)-centric, Short, Short & Sweet, Short One Shot, Sleepy Cuddles, Slight spoilers, Soft Rude, Sweet, ffvii spoilers, hes like super super soft for reno, really rude is super soft for reno
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-03
Updated: 2020-06-03
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:08:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24014962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ellxhii/pseuds/Ellxhii
Summary: He watches Rude’s face, takes notice of how his eyes soften up just a little when Rude stares at him—not enough for someone to notice—but definitely enough for Reno to notice.
Relationships: Reno/Rude (Compilation of FFVII)
Comments: 11
Kudos: 158





	Behind Closed Doors

**Author's Note:**

> [ 𝚂𝙻𝙸𝙶𝙷𝚃 𝙵𝙵𝚅𝙸𝙸 𝚁𝙴𝙼𝙰𝙺𝙴 𝚂𝙿𝙾𝙸𝙻𝙴𝚁𝚂 ]  
> I think I have a kink for soft caring Rude when it comes to Reno. This takes place after the Sector 7 Plate falls, Reno remaining unconscious from Cloud's sick moves for a couple of days and Rude turns into a huge soft baby. The scene with Reno and Rude after the helicopter crashes inspired this fic. I don’t know why the scene of Reno thinking Rude died for like a split second resonated so deeply with me. Enjoy!

Rude fades in and out of sleep, his head nestled in his hands as he sits on the bed. His forearms rest on his thighs, and his hunched over position doesn’t do his spine any justice. He aches all over, his muscles twitching in agony from the convoluted position he’s been sitting in for _hours_. However, he can’t bring himself to move.

Laying down on the bed near him, covered in Shinra blankets and a wet towel across his forehead, Reno breaths rhythmically, his wounds from Cloud stitched up and still healing slowly.

The fan on the ceiling continues blowing air, a soft hum piercing the night atmosphere. Rude’s back up _back up_ sunglasses are on the nightstand, folded up and nestled neatly next to Reno’s mag rod.

 _Little Lightning_ , as he liked to call it.

There’s empty food trays on the dresser at the other end of the room, stacked up high with crumbs and dried up mashed potatoes because Rude _hates_ mashed potatoes. Next to those empty trays are full ones, with grilled meat and vegetables, cold and stale from laying untouched for days.

Days… that’s how long Reno’s been out—how long Rude’s been waiting. 

So when Rude hears the smallest fluctuation in his partner’s breathing, his eyes immediately open, pupils dilating to try and adjust to the darkness through the tinted frames of his glasses. Rude waits for a moment, head still resting on his hands. He feels how the bed shakes, the dip in the mattress shifting as Reno starts to wake up and move. A hiss from Reno’s mouth penetrates the air, causing Rude to quietly open his own, “I thought you were dead back there…” 

“Hah”, Reno scoffs, his hand coming up to grab at the hot towel on his forehead, the same hot towel that Rude would reheat for him every hour, “as if I’d let that _bitch_ end me.” 

When Rude remains silent, finally shifting from his position that he had been in for hours, Reno reaches out to him, rough hand gripping at Rude’s elbow. It stops the taller male in his tracks.

“Did the plate fall?” The words escape Reno’s lips in an almost hesitant manner, he wishes he didn’t have to ask.

Rude sits back down, forehead creased and eyebrows knit so tightly together it looked painful. He whispers out into the night air, “it did.” It takes Reno a moment, crystal blue eyes opening in realization before returning to normal. He feels glad, _confident_ even, that he was able to pull off the assignment Tseng had given him. He was second-in-command after all: he had a reputation to uphold.

Reno opens his mouth after an uncomfortable amount of silence, lips dry and chapped, “good.”

Rude sighs, “is it..” he turns his head around to face Reno, brown eyes stare into crystal blue through dark shades, “good?”

“We didn’t have a choice.” Reno looks away, his eyes resting on the ceiling fan. He watches as it goes round and round, the blades spinning, breaking through the humidity to blow a cool breeze around the room. He watches it, studies it, takes note of how it has one path, continuously turning over and over again. It can’t stop unless someone wields it, it can’t go in reverse, it can’t do anything without someone's power over it.

He feels an odd similarity with the fan.

“I know…” Rude folds his pair of sunglasses, dark and blank like his own face, to place on the nightstand next to his other back up pair. “ _I know_.” He whispers out again, saying it more to himself than to Reno, who is still staring up at the ceiling, mouth tight and eyes glim. When Reno’s hand slides down from Rude’s elbow to his wrist, the taller male doesn’t question it, and he naturally slides his fingers in between Reno’s, almost second nature to him.

They sit in silence for a moment, hand in hand, Rude slightly rubbing his thumb over the top of Reno’s palm without the gloves. He feels his calloused skin, rough and textured, a milky gleam glinting off his hand from the moonlight cast through the window. He remembers how many times Reno had shocked himself from practicing, how many _burns_ and _bruises_ he got from Little Lightning. Still, he never faltered, and if it wasn’t for Rude forcing him to quit and rest every now and then, Reno would probably work himself to the point of death.

Reno lays there, nude body bare except for a pair of crimson boxer shorts, color so bright and vivid it could rival his own hair. Rude watches as the blankets bunch around his partner's waist as Reno leans himself against the headboard of the small bed, his bare chest sickly inviting. The taller male can make out bright pink nipples in the darkness, little buds of pleasure that he wants to _touch_.

“You need rest.” Is what he says, even if he’s thinking of something completely different. If he could, he’d have it his way, with Reno on all fours screaming his name for every employee in Shinra headquarters to hear. But, he somehow keeps his composure, taking the hot towel out of Reno’s other hand and wiping it across his cheek. He keeps noticing new scratches, new areas of skin covered in grime that he hasn’t noticed before. And every day he cleaned him up, laid Reno in his lap and watched as his cheeks turned from dusty purple to warm pink, as he brought life back into his partner.

Bright red hair is strewn about, contrasting sharply with the milky white pillows underneath. His long ponytail unkempt like the rest of his hair, the never ending strands coiling and twisting before ending near his waist. Reno keeps quiet, letting his partner wipe him down until he’s satisfied. He watches Rude’s face, takes notice of how his eyes soften up just a little when Rude stares at him—not enough for someone to notice—but definitely enough for _Reno_ to notice.

Reno hisses out into the empty air when he feels another sharp pain in his chest, the aftermath of the fight really weighing down on him. Crystal eyes stare into dark brown, a softness washing over him that implores Rude to join him in bed.

Rude notices almost instantly, and he lifts up the thick comforter to join Reno in bed, tanned skin hidden behind a dark black tank top and matching boxers. He watches as Rude lays there, his own eyes staring up at the ceiling. Reno takes in his features, sharp jawline, tight nose, beautiful lips, the same lips he wants to have all over him in the heat of a battle. When his chest heaves and sweat drips down his temple. When Rude easily lifts him up in the air to perform a sneak attack. When Rude shatters the earth with his fists. That’s when he wants Rude’s lips all over him. 

He gazes at Rude’s facial features, his goatee trimmed and shaped just right, framing Rude’s face even more than it had before. 

God not the goatee. It tickles Reno whenever Rude kisses him, and he _hates_ that feeling.

So he decides to voice that opinion.

“You should shave that goatee.”

“Yeah?” Rude twists his neck to stare at Reno, blue eyes clash with brown.

Reno smiles, his tongue darting out to lick his lips, “I like you hairless.”

A chuckle, as rare as rain hitting the Midgar slums, escapes from Rude’s lips. It creates a warm, tingling feeling in Reno’s chest, and has him reaching up to rub his fingers across his partner’s goatee. “It’s all prickly.”

The taller male is slightly confused, his facial features distorting slightly—which causes Reno to laugh, his _actual_ laugh, goofy and bright eyed with even brighter teeth.

Rude automatically leans into his touch.

“Just come here dumbass.” The red head commands, the corners of his mouth lifting ever so slightly. 

Rude listens, going so far as to wrap his arms around Reno’s hips to pull him closer. If it was anybody else calling him a dumbass, he’d be using his hands in a very different, more confrontational way. The shorter male responds by placing his head in the crook of Rude’s neck, his light breath hitting his partner's collarbone. 

They lay there for a moment, the whistling ceiling fan being their only audience. Rude brings his hand up to interlock his fingers with Reno, who places their connected hands on top of Rude’s chest. When the shorter male closes his eyes, he can feel Rude’s warmth, as if it’s enveloping him.

It’s therapeutic to Reno.

Rude closes his eyes as well, letting the comfort of his partner and the white noise of the fan slowly drift him in and out of sleep.

There’s times when Rude wants to stop, wants to quit being a Turk, wants to live quietly in a house on the upper plate.

He wants that; with Reno. He wants to be able to hold Reno—not only behind closed doors. He wants to be able to ask Reno to go get groceries and make him dinner when he comes back and feel Reno’s breath against him when the shorter male cuddles up to him in bed at night, exactly like he is now.

He wants _that_.

When Rude’s deep voice breaks the silence, Reno looks up at him expectantly, “do you think people died?” He's hesitant to ask but needs to know.

Reno responds with a sigh, lips ghosting over Rude’s collarbone, “probably.”

“Reno…” Rude squeezes his hand, a small notion that means the world to the other. A look of concern flashes across his face, and Rude meets his gaze, a troubled look flashing across his.

“People didn’t have to die.” Reno sighs, each word sounding more and more acidic as it leaves his mouth.

“I know..” Rude doesn’t let up on his squeeze of Reno’s hand, his neck twisting awkwardly so that he can kiss Reno’s head, bright red tips—electrifyingly bright—meeting soft tan lips.

Reno melts into the touch, body soft and comfortable, his breathing relaxing to a slow pace.

He thinks back to when he first met Rude, wary eyes and phony smiles and not nearly enough conversations. Rude was as cautious of Reno as Reno was of Rude, and they only spoke to one another when absolutely needed. Red hair challenged tanned fists when they had their first fight, Reno flaring up as he usually does, testing Rude, seeing what makes him crack. He remembers it like it was yesterday, he had stolen Rude’s precious little pair of sunglasses, and watched as the taller male cracked, his stone-hard features soften up almost disgustingly so. It was new to Reno, he reveled in only getting to see it himself. Him, the only one who ever saw Rude go cold in the face and voice raise a couple of octaves. It was also then that he learned _why_ Rude always wore sunglasses, and he told himself he would never do it again.

After a couple of minutes of cuddling and kissing, intertwined fingers and limbs, Reno starts to get antsy, his bottom half growing more heated with every moment that passes.

Rude can feel it, can feel how Reno tries to press himself even closer, the shorter male’s cheeks growing red.

A small smile makes its way onto Rude’s lips, and he slowly climbs on top of Reno. “You’re hard already huh?” He whispers against his partner’s lips, watching as Reno writhes under him.

“And who’s fault is that _huh_?”

They embrace each other in a tangle of limbs and velvety smooth breath, Reno pushing his hips against Rude in an almost impatient way. Light, milky skin rubs against dark tan, sweat and moans and soft touches. 

“Is this okay?” Rude whispers across pink lips, his own hips coming down to meet Reno’s. His partner responds with a moan and a nod, and that’s all it takes for Rude to continue.

He’s gentle, almost _too_ gentle, as if Reno would break under his touch.

And maybe he would have, if Rude wasn’t his rock, his shield, his _foundation_ ,

maybe he would have broken.

**Author's Note:**

> I left the reason why Rude always wears sunglasses up to the reader, but personally I think it’s because he has soft eyes, kind of like Barret. Anyways, thanks for reading! Comments and Kudos are much appreciated!


End file.
